Subtle Threat
by Solain Rhyo
Summary: Reunited with the predators she can't remember, Lex must evade Reed's wrath while struggling to recall just what happened on Bouvetoya. Follows Sacrifice Theory. Rating to go up.
1. Inconsistent Memories

_**IMPORTANT: **This story is the final part of a trilogy; I strongly recommend you read its predecessors, **Surviving This **and **Sacrifice Theory**, before starting on this one. You will more than likely be confused if you don't._

_**Author's Note: **Sorry this took so long! Between moving and work **Chocobo Goddess **and I had very little time these past couple of months to get together and get our minds working. This fic is a collaborative effort between the two of us, and I hope you enjoy it as much as you did the other two._

**xXx**

I was not safe here.

It was the first thing I was aware of, a tingling sense of alarm tugging persistently at my mind which was trying valiantly –and failing - to extricate itself from the fog that shrouded it. Before I knew anything, before I began to comprehend where I was and what had happened, I knew I was in danger.

It prompted my eyes to open, that apprehensive feeling, and as I blinked hard against the harsh wash of light that assailed my vision I tried to sort out my thoughts that were all whirling in cacophonic rhythm throughout my head. Eventually, eyes finally able to focus on the softly buzzing fluorescent lighting overhead, I made a discovery that was extremely disconcerting.

My memory was blank.

Not entirely bare of recollections, I realized after a moment of almost panic. I knew who I was – Alexa Woods, polar wilderness guide and member of numerous wildlife activists groups. I knew where I had been born, where I had grown up, where my father had died. I recalled the numerous expeditions I'd guided and some of the people I'd led on those expeditions. I could even remember receiving a phone call from one Maxwell Stafford, inviting me to join an exclusive crew formed by none other than corporate giant Charles Bishop Weyland. And I had agreed, and I'd been taken onboard a mammoth icebreaker – The _Piper Maru? _I could remember bits and pieces of conversations after I'd boarded the ship, snatches of peoples faces as they spoke to me, but the more I tried to make these pieces fit, the more they became hazy and jumbled in my mind. I began to feel uneasy as it became increasingly apparent that I had no idea why I was here, or how I'd come to be thus.

Where was "here"?

Immediately my eyes darted about my surroundings, hoping to find the key to the disorganized cluster of whispers and scenes floating through my head that had, once upon a time, been memories. White, nondescript walls housed me, and set into them, left of where I lay, was a metal door with a white knob. There were no windows. The steady, gentle _beep-beep-beep_ I'd heard as I'd awakened but hadn't thought to dwell on was that of a heart monitor standing on the right side of my bed. _Hospital_, I thought with another pang of unease, lifting my wrist to find the slender tube of an IV inserted beneath my skin. What had happened to me that I'd wind up here?

I tried as best I could to examine the rest of my body, struggling into a sitting position and almost whimpering aloud as I discovered that the movement set into motion muscles that were sore and bruised. Gauze was wound about my free wrist and, I discovered, pulling the thin standard issue hospital sheet down, was random patches along the lengths of both my legs. Risking indecency, I swiftly pulled up the hem of my blue, starchy gown and muttered an exclamation at the spectacular blue and black splotching along the lines of my ribs. No wonder it hurt to move …

The sound of the doorknob moving caught my immediate attention, and as quickly as I could I let my robe fall back and pulled the sheet back over me again, but I remained sitting. I watched with some trepidation as the door opened and emitted a tall, thin man in a doctor's coat, with a head of fine dark hair and small square glasses. Seeing me awake, he greeted me with a smile that gave me the distinct impression that while it was warm, it was by no means genuine.

"Ms. Woods," He greeted, his voice, like the rest of him, ordinary. "How long have you been awake?"

I tried to speak, found my voice was hoarse, cleared my throat and answered him, "Not long."

He crossed to the foot of my bed, picking up the charts that hung there affixed to a clipboard and flipping through them. Without glancing at me, he asked, "How do you feel?"

"Like hell," I replied honestly. I waited a moment, watching as he studied my charts, before saying with more nervousness than I intended to show, "I can't remember what happened."

He did look up at me then, blinking with brown eyes magnified by his lenses. Prompted by his blank stare, I elaborated. "I can't remember how I wound up here. I can't remember how I got hurt."

"Indeed," he said, and I got another distinct impression from him, this one telling me that he wasn't pleased by my news.

"Yes," I said, feeling more and more uneasy as seconds ticked by. "What happened to me?"

There was a poignant pause before he answered, and for a moment I caught a glimpse in those blank eyes of something sharper, something shrewd. "You were caught in a grenade explosion, Ms. Woods, underground. The cave you were in collapsed. You can't recall any of this?"

I wracked my brain, sifting through all the disjointed images and sounds, trying to fit together what he'd just told me. Finally I shook my head, "I don't remember."

"Well, that's not uncommon under circumstances such as these. You underwent a great deal of trauma, you know. This is the fourth week you've been here."

I felt my eyes widen. I'd been here, comatose, for four weeks?

"Yes," he said, watching the expression on my face, "You're lucky to be alive. For awhile we thought you might not make it."

"This cave," I said, trying again to remember and suddenly certain he knew the answers to all the questions I had, "Where was it?"

He ignored my question, skirting around the edge of the bed and coming to stand next to the IV stand. I watched as he withdrew a syringe from his pocket and proceeded to empty it into the contents of my IV bag. "What is that?" I asked.

"Mild sedative. I understand you're very confused and alarmed right now by the loss of your memory, but you need to rest in order to heal."

_Tell me!_ I wanted to scream at him. _Tell me what happened! _But instead I lay back down, resting my head against the firm pillow. "Who are you?"

"Dr. Taves," he replied, giving me another insincere smile before he turned and walked to the door. "Rest, Ms. Woods. I'll be back to check on you in a few hours with Mr. Weyland. He'll be eager to see how you're doing."

"Weyland?" I asked as he opened the door, "Charles Weyland?"

"No," Dr. Taves said, not turning around. "His son, Reed."

The name Reed Weyland provoked no recognition within me, much to my disappointment. And so as the doctor gently closed the door behind him I let my eyes slide closed, let the chaotic whirlwind that was my mind slow to a halt as the sedative flooded my system.

Perhaps this Reed could tell me what I needed to know.

**xXx**


	2. Hushed Warning

_**Author's Note: **Sincere apologies for taking so long to update; my obsession with AvP went away for a few months but now it's back. I thank you all for your support through the first chapter of this story, but I've received a recurring question from people: **"I thought Reed was dead? Why is he back?" **_

_Well, the story before this, **Sacrifice Theory**, had two endings. In the complete ending (the first ending), Reed was butchered by Scar. In the second, alternate ending (the ending that lead directly to this story), however, Reed was left alive; the last thing that happens in that chapter is Scar pushing Lex out of the way of the grenade Reed himself threw …_

_I hope that clears it up for you, but if you have any more questions don't hesitate to ask. _

**XIX**

When I woke next my first thought was that I hadn't dreamed, and I found that fact disheartening. My memory was still a mass of jumbled confusion, and I thought that maybe through dreams some semblance of order would come to me and would make my recollections whole once again. Instead I found myself besieged again with doubt and uncertainty, staring up at the plain white ceiling with darkened fluorescent lights. For a long time I remained motionless, my only movement the blinking of my eyes, as I attempted without success to sift through the jargon floating through my mind in order to piece fragments together. When the strength of my focus gave rise to a steady, dull, consistent throbbing in my temples, however, I gave up trying to recall anything with a discouraged sigh. Minutes passed; I began to count the tiles in the ceiling, knowing that soon someone would come—perhaps Dr. Taves?- and then maybe I could get some of the answers I needed. I had reached forty three tiles when the knob set in the door rattled, and I sat up swiftly as it opened, wincing as every part of me I could name and some I couldn't protested the movement.

I was expecting my visitor to be the doctor; when I saw it wasn't but was in fact a woman, I frowned. She swiftly and carefully shut the door behind her before turning to face me, and for a moment we stared at each other in silence. Studying her form, the short dark hair that rose from her head in attractive spiked disarray and the warm chocolate eyes that regarded me unblinking, I felt recognition well up within me, and without knowing where it came from I blurted out a name. "Ana?"

"Thank God," she breathed, and hastened to my side. "You do remember."

I shook my head as she reached me, "Not everything. Bits and pieces."

She stared down at me for a long moment, brows creased in a pensive frown. "What," she asked me slowly, "exactly do you remember?"

It took me a moment before I could answer adequately, rummaging through all I could recall and tying it together in order to make my response coherent. "Stafford," I told her then, "and Weyland. The _Piper Maru. _You … and you have a daughter …" I had to pause here a moment, fishing about to retrieve yet another name. "Cora. Your daughter is Cora."

Ana nodded, and I continued. "There was an expedition, wasn't there? That's why we were on the ice breaker …?"

My words drifted off and I looked at Ana for support. The expression on her face instantly rendered me apprehensive; she was watching me through wide eyes filled with concern. After a moment she said softly, "You don't know what happened to you. You don't know any of it."

I felt icy dread creep over me at her words. "What _did_ happen? Why am I here?"

Instead of answering me, she began to speak quickly in a hurried, hushed voice. "You have to listen to me, Lex. Cora- she told me about the monsters, and God have mercy on me but I'm starting to believe it." I opened my mouth to interrupt, to question, but she shook her head fiercely and continued, not allowing me to speak. "You're not safe here. Reed refused to let me look at you when you all arrived back on board, and even now he won't allow it. I snuck in here, which is why I don't have much time. Lex, something happened down there, something important, and that's why he has you in here. He won't let you go until he gets what he wants, and I don't know what that is."

"Reed," I said, remembering my conversation earlier with Dr. Taves, "Reed Weyland?"

Ana nodded. "Lex, I'll get you out of here. I don't know how, but I will. I don't know what he wants but it can't be good—whatever it is he brought back with him from down there, it's very important. Security around here has been tripled. I'll be lucky if I can get back in to see you again-"

At that instant the doorknob began to turn; Ana swiftly leaned down and whispered harshly in my ear, "You're not _safe!_"

Shaken, I stared at her as she stepped away from the bed. The door swung open, emitting Dr. Taves. He looked from Ana to me and back again, and when he spoke his voice was sharp, "I don't believe you have the correct clearance to be in here, Ms. Benson."

"I was just leaving." Ana said coolly, and without another word or backward glance swept past him and out the door. For a moment the doctor stared after her as though contemplating pursuit but instead shook his head and turned his attention to me.

"Was she bothering you, Ms. Woods?"

"I—no."

"What did she tell you?"

Although it was subtle, I didn't like the demanding edge his voice took; instinct told me to tread with caution. "She said she was worried about me," I said, "and that she wasn't allowed to come and see me."

My half-truth seemed to assuage whatever concerns he had; he nodded his head perfunctorily and stepped up to the foot of my bed to retrieve my charts. "It's for the best," he said, as if that answered everything.

Still riled by Ana's last, whispered warning, I waited only a moment before asking, "Doctor? I need to know what happened to me. Can you tell me?"

He lifted his eyes from my charts only briefly, but even that space of time was enough for me to notice once again the way they became guarded and shuttered. Evasively, he answered, "Mr. Weyland will have all the answers you need, Ms. Woods. I'm afraid I'm neither authorized nor know enough to tell you what it is you wish to know."

"When will he be here?" I persisted as he let fall the charts and stepped around the bed.

"Later on this morning." The doctor's tone had changed, become almost brusque, and without further ado he set about checking me to see how I was healing. I answered his questions dutifully, sensing it wouldn't be wise to be obstinate, and when he gently removed the IV from my wrist I leaned back against the pillows and watched in silence. After slipping the cold disk of the stethoscope just under the collar of my shirt and listening to my heartbeat, he straightened and gave me again his quick, cool smile.

"You're doing well, Ms. Woods. Almost better than expected. I think it's safe to let you get up and walk around."

And so I did, with his aid; he lowered the metal railing and assisted me in slipping down from the bed. The moment my feet touched the ground I realized that my muscles had atrophied to a degree; my legs wobbled and if it hadn't been for the doctor's arm around me I would have certainly fallen. "Careful now," he murmured, moving his arm to my waist, and with his support I was able to walk. It took only four steps for me to become winded; we turned around and made it back to the bed. As he helped me back up, he said, "In the closet over there, you'll find some clothes. Standard hospital issue; not much, but better than your gown." I nodded my thanks and he continued, "The fastest way to get your body in shape again is to work your muscles. Try walking on your own, and if you can't do that I'll send an orderly to help you out. Now, I've got others to check up on, so I've got to go. Will you be okay until Reed gets here?"

"I think so," I said, and he gave me another small smile.

"Good. I'll check in on you later today." And with that, Dr. Taves took his leave.

Sitting on the bed with my legs hanging over the side, I found myself in my isolation replaying all that Ana had said over and over again in my mind. Her obvious fear had instilled me with the same, and I hated the fact that I didn't know what it was I was afraid of. Dr. Taves had said that I had been in a cave, and that that cave had collapsed because of a grenade explosion … what in the holy hell had gone on down there below the ice?

There were, of course, no answers forthcoming, and so after a moment I grit my teeth and slid down once more from the bed. Being this weak was something I fervently hated, and so it was with agonizing slowness and awkward, trembling steps I made my way to the closet on the opposite wall. When I reached it I had to rest a moment, leaning my head against its cool surface and breathing hard. Inside, as the doctor had said, I found a pair of surgical green scrubs, and I donned them in a shaky, haphazard manner. The return journey to the bed was nothing short of a nightmare, and when finally I reached it I sprawled myself across it, utterly exhausted and depressed by how much strength my body had lost over the last few weeks.

"I used to climb ice falls," I muttered to myself. "I used to climb mountains." With a weary, disheartened sigh I rolled onto my back and leaned back against the pillows, throwing one arm over my eyes. The doctor had said Reed Weyland was coming to see me, and so I settled in to wait.

**XIX**


	3. Unwelcome Mark

**XIX**

When Reed Weyland finally did arrive—by my rough estimate an hour later- I found myself presented with a man that looked absolutely nothing like I had pictured him as. He was of tall build, almost willowy in stature; I could see, after a moment of hard scrutiny, the family resemblance in the close set dark eyes and the hard line of the jaw. His hair, jet black in color, was worn in longish layers about his face, and the color was matched by the casual, tailored black suit he wore. Upon seeing me awake and sitting up, his unreadable expression lightened. "Ale--" he began, then caught himself. "Ms. Woods," he said warmly, "I'm glad to see you awake."

His demeanour confused me, though I had no idea why. Although I dearly wanted to question him, demand answers from him, I merely nodded and said. "Mr. Weyland—I don't know if the doctor told you, but I don't remember you …"

He nodded. "I know. That's...well. Where to start?" He seemed at a bit of a loss. "You've been through a lot, and I don't want to rush you. May I?" He indicated that he wanted to sit beside me on the bed.

I nodded, my heart suddenly thudding at the prospect that the things I couldn't remember, the very events that had landed me in the hospital, were about to be revealed. He gently lowered himself and took a moment before continuing.

"I suppose I should begin with what you do remember." He looked at his hands, not at me, as he talked. "How much do you know? Do you have any recollection of, say, the time before arriving here? Or of what happened after you led my father's party down the iceberg? Anything?"

"I remember getting the call from Stafford. And the _Piper Maru_—I remember arriving on board. I remember meeting your father and some others … but their names are gone. I can't recall the reason for the expedition, just that I would be leading a team to Bouvetoya … for scientific research?" I halted here, my brow furrowing as I struggled to regain some small bit of information that would tie all I had just said together. After a moment I sighed, and it wasn't a happy sound. I looked up at him and shrugged tiredly. "I don't know any more than that."

"Hmm." He, too, looked disappointed, though personally, as if he'd hoped I'd say I remembered more. "Let me fill you in a bit then. At least you know somewhat why you're here; maybe that will make the news easier to swallow." He met my eyes at last, and I was struck by their intensity. There was some emotion lurking behind them, something that could be concern, worry, determination--fear? "It was originally for scientific research," he went on grimly, "But there was much, much more." His gaze softened, and he hesitantly put a hand on my arm. "Lex, stop me if it becomes too much. I will not risk losing you again."

My first instinct had been to recoil from his touch; this reaction puzzled me as much as his last sentence did. Trying to ignore my discomfiture, I said, "Please keep going."

So I heard it all, from the descent to the discoveries to the deaths--he admitted he only had the reports to go by from the first foray, as he himself did not arrive til later--when his father died. Then there was the litany of everything that had happened afterward, how we went back down to recover his father's body, how we had been attacked by the black alien creatures, caught in the crossfire between those and their hunters. His voice broke twice: once when he talked about his father, and once when he talked about finding me after the explosion.

At the end, he fixed that gaze upon me once more, only this time, he stared angrily at a spot on my face. "We worked out what they wanted," he said, voice tight. His hand somehow had become entwined with mine, and now he gripped it as though I needed his strength. "Those monsters. They--god. I can't believe I got you out of there at all. They marked you, Lex." All traces of 'Ms. Woods' had disappeared, though I hadn't even noticed at the chill that went through me. "They marked you like an animal." His other hand came up, the thumb tracing lightly over my cheek. I was unprepared for the sudden tenderness, both in his gesture and that of my skin. He dragged his eyes back from whatever marked my face to look me in the eye at last. "They marked you as prey."

I couldn't hold his gaze for long; his words, as unfeasible, as unbelievable as they seemed, had struck a chord within me. And for one brief, fleeting moment something came to me, an image hazy and insubstantial but one that filled me with a myriad of emotions too tangled to sort through—

_-standing before me was one of the hunters. As I completed my turn he raised the arm holding his sophisticated spear with deliberate, menacing slowness. The spear extended suddenly, noisily, and I couldn't help the frightened sound that left me. The hunter snarled at me; it was unmistakably threatening, and as he began to advance I threw both my arms out in a gesture of supplication—_

"I can't …" I said, placing one hand on my forehead as though to catch hold of the memory even as it drifted from my grasp. I shook my head in utter disbelief; Reed's story sounded like something from a science fiction novel, but I had just remembered a creature that couldn't be real, could it? Or was he telling the truth, and his words were jostling my fragmented memory? I lifted my eyes to him again, unable to hide the fear and uncertainty that flowed through them. I said, "Tell me about them. Everything."

So he did. He described them to me, told me what they did, why they seemed to be here, what he knew of what had happened below the ice. There was hatred in his voice, in his rigid bearing, the coldness with which he recounted the brutal slaying of the entire drill team. They took trophies, they hunted humans and the black aliens alike. They used weapons both primitive and highly advanced, lasers and wicked claws, nets laced with acid. Each one wore a mask that identified it from the others, sometimes decorated with the blood of their kills.

"There's one more thing," he said, hesitantly, searching my face for some response, "And I will show you, later. I want you to know now, so there are no secrets between us, Lex." For the first time since the beginning of this interview, he actually looked uncomfortable. "We--we have one of them. It's alive, wounded, but we've managed to keep it under heavy sedation. Once you're up and about for real, I want to have you come see it in case it jogs any more of your memory." He had both of my hands now, his fingers wound in with mine.

Something deep inside me lurched when I heard that one of those creatures was here within this complex; whether it was fear or dismay I couldn't tell. I was quite suddenly overwhelmed by everything—the story, the flashback, Reed's hands on mine. I felt a headache burgeoning to life and closed my eyes against it, and when I opened them a second later I gently disentangled my fingers from his. "It's a lot to absorb," I said heavily by way of explanation.

He seemed genuinely hurt when I pulled away, though he covered it well. "I know," he replied, quietly. "I told you, I will not rush you on this. We seem to have a reprieve for now, which is certainly needed around here. Everyone is frightened and upset, and we've--" he paused and corrected himself, "I've--been worried about you in particular." He stood and moved toward the door. "Listen, Lex--when you're feeling better, or up for it, come talk to me again? I--" Once more he hesitated, so at odds with what I expected from him. "I need to talk to you about other things. They're not important right now, not until you get back on your feet. Just call me when you're ready?"

He had one hand on the doorknob when it occurred to me to ask him something else. "Anamaria Benson," I said, and he became still. "She was here today. She said I'm not safe and that she's not allowed to see me. Why?"

His eyes flashed to my face; I could feel him staring at the mark there. "Because I don't want anyone else to get hurt. I don't want to isolate you, but I will if it means keeping the risk of injury or death away from my team. I will talk with her. You both seemed to be on friendly terms before all this; she is likely as worried as I have been that you weren't going to make it. All the same, she has a little girl here with her. She has Cora to think about." Reed made as if to go, then stopped and picked up something from a side counter. "Here--this is why you're alone here. I want you to know what they did to you, why I can't allow anyone to see you just yet."

It was a small medical mirror. Reed placed it in my hand and curled my fingers around it. "Lex," he nearly breathed, tense, "I told you they marked you. I think they will try to come back for you. I will do all in my power--everything--to stop them if they do, but until then..." He trailed off and moved back. "I will check on you later, I promise. Think about all this."

As the door closed behind him I lifted the mirror, and as my own reflection stared back at me I saw the mark etched into my cheek immediately. It almost resembled a thunderbolt; two curved lines above and below each other that never met. I raised one finger to touch it, tracing the lines—

_-with the wall suddenly at my back I found myself staring up at the acid tipped finger held ominously in his large, clawed hand—_

I dropped the mirror as though burned, breathing fast as the vision faded. I knew now with cold, absolute certainty that Reed had spoken at least partial truth. The proof was in the flashes of memory that had assaulted me so recently and in the design that marred my flesh. I lifted my hand again to touch the lines that rose a minimal distance from the rest of my flesh, knowing instinctively that they had been burned into existence. Where they what Reed had said they were? Did they indeed mark me as prey to a race of hunters?

I didn't pick up the mirror again. Instead I laid back against the pillows and closed my eyes, trying not to listen to the thunder of my racing heart.

**XIX**

_**Author's Note: Chocobo Goddess** has returned to play the role of Reed, intergalactic cretin extraordinaire. She'll be writing him throughout the entirety of this story. On a side note, thank you everyone for your support thus far; I'm sorry I made you wait so long. _


	4. Name

**XIX**

In the days that passed my initial meeting with Reed Weyland I concentrated hard on getting my weakened muscles back into some semblance of good form. Dr. Taves, perhaps seeing and recognizing my disgust at being so weak and incapable, aided me by taking me daily to a small gym located not far from my room. From what I could gather simply by walking to and fro every day, I wasn't in a hospital as I'd originally assumed. This place looked more like a military complex than anything else, with the Weyland Industries logo plastered on every other door. There were armed guards posted at almost every entrance—one not far outside the door to my room—and they gave the place a definite militant feel. Any questions I posted to the doctor about where I actually was were merely answered by small, purposefully evasive smiles; I gathered that if I wanted any answers, I was going to have to get them from Reed.

The intense workouts on the machines at the gym were both gruelling and gratifying; my still battered body protested the workouts, but I gained some measure of reassurance by knowing that, little by little, I was gaining my strength back. The doctor left when I started my exercise and returned to escort me back to my room. He seemed pleased by the rate of my recovery, but I couldn't tell for sure; Dr. Taves was incredibly hard to read and rather tight-lipped. He had books and a small television brought to my room, as well as a small wardrobe in exactly my size. I was beyond grateful to have something common like jeans and a sweatshirt to wear over the thin drab green of the scrubs. The books and TV were welcome diversions, and though I tried my hardest in the hours when I was alone to ignore what Reed had said and what little I'd remembered, I found that it just wasn't possible. And so it was that I spent a long time mulling over the tiny bits of memory that had resurfaced while within me a cold knot of dread steadily grew.

Reed made appearances some days, dropping in to say hello and ask after my health. He seemed genuinely delighted by my progress, and although he never stayed overly long I had the distinct impression that my welfare did indeed matter to him. Part of me dreaded the "talk" he'd spoken of us having in the future; another part of me was eager to hear what it was he had to say. He often took my hand in his or reached out to brush stray wisps of hair back from my face, and those gestures utterly bewildered me. Had we been … _involved_ … before all this had happened? I was beginning to suspect that if we hadn't been, we had been close to something of that nature. More than anything else, though, I was confused; so many things to comprehend, and my brain was rebelling at the task. I studiously avoided looking at my face in the mirrors when I woke in the morning and set about getting ready for the day, because the last flashback I'd had after seeing the scar on my cheek had terrified me. Time enough to dwell on that later, I told myself, though I knew that I should be focusing on these things _now_ …

It was a full twelve days after I awoke that Reed came to my room in the late afternoon, giving me the smile I was fast becoming familiar with and closing the door behind him. I was sitting up in my bed, leaning against a pile of pillows and flicking randomly through channels on the TV on a stand at the foot of the bed, but I laid the remote down and said with my own small smile, "Hello."

"Anything good on?" he asked. His voice was light, but there was a slightly strained note behind it. As he moved to sit on the bed, he watched my face for--something. I could never figure out what, but from time to time he would just study my reactions, as though what I said wasn't so important as what I didn't say. "I came to check on you."

"I'm fine," I told him, picking up the remote again and flicking the television off. "Going a little stir-crazy, getting frustrated because I still can't remember much, but I guess that's to be expected, right?"

Reed smiled, a bit ruefully, then grew serious. "Then I wonder if you'd be feeling up to coming with me." His tone grew hushed, a little worried, as his hand played over mine. I hadn't even noticed him taking it, but it lent an odd sense of warmth, of gravity. "I told you I won't rush you, but--I think it might be time to show you the monster."

In the long silence that followed I tried to effectively suppress the sense of dread that returned full force at his suggestion. I didn't want to see what he had to show me, and yet at the same time I did with a peculiar sense of urgency that bordered on worry. My emotions were befuddling; perhaps sensing my turmoil Reed started to retract his hand. I shook my head, swallowing hard before saying, "It's alright—I'm ready."

He was surprised, pleased. His hand gripped mine more firmly and he helped me stand. "I'm glad," he murmured when I was on my feet. We were close, close enough for him to kiss me if either of us had moved in, but instead he stepped back as if it was an effort. "I am glad. This will help, I'm sure. And I will be with you, Lex. Don't forget that." He shook his head. "I won't leave you alone."

I was shaken by his proximity—because I wanted it or because I feared it? He moved to the door and held it open for me, and so I exited the room with him behind me. He stepped up without further comment to walk beside me, and so I followed him to wherever it was we were going. We went the same direction I took to get to the gym but passed it before taking the next right and continuing on down a long corridor lined with doors on either side. Like in the other areas, there were a multitude of armed guards here as well. Finally we reached an end; a massive steel door marked with the numbers "002" in crimson blocked our path, and a guard shouldering an automatic rifle stood off to the side.

"Mr. Weyland," the guard said by way of greeting, nodding his head before glancing briefly at me. He said nothing further, instead turning and punching in a number on a keypad located to the right of the door. With an echoing grinding noise the door slid open, and with a muttered thanks Reed touched my shoulder, indicating I was to precede him. As soon as we crossed the threshold the door closed, and I found myself in a room that looked remarkably like that of a hospital lab. There was a desk in the far corner, covered entirely in scattered papers, and several filing cabinets lined the wall beside it. Shelves lined the other wall, and in organized cluttered on top of them were a myriad of medical supplies. Another desk, this one with a computer, sat on a desk beside the door we had come through. Another door was set beside the computer desk, and in the wall opposite of us there was a large glass window that looked down and out into another chamber.

My eyes were drawn instantly to the window, knowing with an almost painful certainty what I would find should I look through it. Reed, however, moved towards the other door in the room, beckoning me to follow. Wondering what he wanted me to see, I obeyed. The next room had charts lining the wall, some filled with medical information, some containing things I didn't understand. There was another computer in this room too, and its monitor seemed to be continually updating several graphs simultaneously. There was a door set in one wall, marked with "002", and seeing the security keypad next to it I knew where it led. My eyes were torn from the door, from the fearful and wondering thoughts of what lay behind it, to follow Reed to a large steel table set in the corner of the room.

"What is that?" I asked him, approaching and catching glimpse of the paraphernalia littering the table.

"The monster's equipment," he replied, eyes fixed upon it as mine were. "Its armor and clothing." There was a fascinated note in his voice now, a gleam in his eye as he hefted a bowl-like metal piece and turned it so I could see. "Its mask."

_-his mask was distinctly unique; it was more linear than the other's, more angular, and there were three deep grooves that bisected the face –claw marks?--_

I reached out to take it, to touch it, to trace my fingers down the deep scratches dividing the mask in half, remembering seeing it somewhere before, remembering that it had made me afraid. I set it down quickly then, and Reed indicated the rest of the items on the table. There was a large metal gauntlet, sophisticated in appearance; lying next to it was a straight, slender, compact piece of metal with a wickedly barbed spearhead on one end. My eyes roamed over them to large pieces of metal plates, carved with amazing intricacy into hundreds of snake-like scales; in my head I fit them to together over a body much larger, much stronger than that of any human …

_-his armor, upon inspection, was also different from that of the other – it was shaped in the form of scales upon scales, like the skin of a dragon from myth—_

"Scale," I whispered suddenly; it was a name given to a monster that I could only recall through armor and mask. Reed was staring at me, his eyes almost painfully tense in their regard; for some reason I didn't want to tell him what sliver of recollection had just returned to me. "I recognize the scales in the armor," I told him, gesturing.

He said nothing, just watched me. Then, at length, he nodded slowly, eyes still on me. "You certainly had a few good chances to see them up close." When he looked away, it was like turning a heat lamp away at the same time. "We can't identify the metal they used," he went on as if nothing had happened, "but the workmanship is exquisite." He tossed the piece in his hands to the table. "Are you ready to see it now? Or does this make you think of anything else?"

My gaze flew instantly to the sealed door. I said thickly, "I'm ready to see it."

He stepped past me, squeezing my shoulder gently in the process—a sign of comfort and support?—before leading me back into the office where we'd first entered. He strode to stand by the large observation window; I hesitated for a moment before stepping up beside him. It looked down into what appeared to be a high-tech medical laboratory; undeniably expensive equipment and monitors could be seen everywhere. And there in the dead center of the room was a large, steel and black medical table. And lying on that table, a thing of incredible girth and bizarre, mottled skin, was the creature. It was bare from the waist up; a simple white sheet covered the rest of it. It was hooked up to no less than five different things; ECG sensors were taped to its massive chest and I noted an IV in one thick wrist. It's face was the last thing I looked at, and the moment I saw it another image flashed to life in my mind—

_-skin was mottled greenish yellow, reptilian like, and his eyes, close set and beneath a large, prominent brow, where a dark crimson in color. Framing his toothy mouth were four mandibles that moved as though they had a life of their own, and each was tipped with a small tusk. From the back of his head fell the long, thick tube like strands that were, I realized, his hair—_

I must have a made a noise, because Reed was suddenly gripping my arm tightly. His eyes, boring into mine, seemed to be both apprehensive and concerned. I said tersely, my own eyes still on the creature, "I remember … seeing them without the mask."

"You do?" He pulled me close. "God, Lex. I didn't know. The first time I saw them—" He trailed off and looked over at the one on the table. His arm stayed around my shoulders. "I hate them," he finished simply, in a sudden display of cold disgust. "I want to know more about them, but I hate seeing them, knowing what they were here to do. It makes me sick to know what we are to them."

"Why keep it alive?" I asked, staring down at it—no, it was male. I _knew_ that much, though how I was unsure. His chest, easily twice as wide as my own, rose and fell steadily with his breathing, and what looked like a hybrid version of normal oxygen mask covered the lower half of his face. "Why not kill it?"

After what they did to you, it was my first instinct," he admitted. "But then my scientists made the point that we have never had an opportunity like this to study another life form from another planet, and the intellectual part of my mind had to agree." The words seemed to taste bad. "I would rather kill it the way it killed my men, my father."

I couldn't remember the death of Charles Bishop Weyland, though Reed had told me I'd been present when one of the creatures had killed him. I heard the grief in Reed's words and felt a rush of sympathy for him. "What of the other two?" I questioned after a moment. "Aren't you afraid they're going to come back for it?"

"Yes," he said, and a hardness entered his expression. His fingers fanned and tightened on my arm. "I expect they will."

"You want them to come here," I said in sudden realization. "You want them here … to kill them? Or to study them?"

"Both." He shook himself and looked down at me. "We can learn a lot from them, but I'm not interested in making friends. Next time they come down here, humanity should be prepared to defend itself."

A logical answer, but I couldn't shake the feeling that he hadn't said everything there was to say. My gaze fell again upon the comatose creature down below—the creature I somehow knew by name—and I couldn't help the shiver that caressed my spine. "Can we go?" I asked, suddenly wanting to be somewhere, anywhere but here.

He nodded, grateful as I was to leave, it seemed. The moment the door closed behind us, separating us from the monster and the memories, he pulled me up against him and wrapped his arms around me. When I stiffened, he murmured into my ear, softly, desperately, "Please, Lex. Just for a moment."

I gave him a moment, both glad to have someone to hold on to in light of all that was transpiring but for some reason unaccountably uncomfortable with it. I pulled away, ducking my head because I didn't want him to see how confused and how unnerved I was. It was becoming apparent to me that whatever else had transpired in the past I couldn't recall, Reed and I had been involved somehow. How was I to do deal with that, though, when I couldn't remember? Not wanting to appear as though I couldn't stand him, I said softly, "Thank you."

"No, thank _you_." He shifted uncomfortably. "Why don't we go up and talk somewhere more comfortable? This place bothers me, and right now I could use a drink."

I nodded, following him past the guard, glad to leave the creature that had hunted me—the creature I had for some inexplicable reason _named_—behind.

**XIX**

He took me to his own quarters, set on the upper level of the facility. On this floor, I saw, there were windows, and as we exited the elevator and strode past I caught a glimpse of the world outside. It was dark, too dark for the time of day it was, and all there was to see were stars and a stretch of snow blanketed forest. I asked Reed where exactly we were; he explained that in the mid 90's, there had been a petroleum boom in the furthest north and south areas of the world—the polar areas. We were, he told me, in a facility his father had built during the boom, a full day's flight from the island of Bouvetoya.

Reed's quarters were somewhat more extravagant than my own. They were fully furnished, seeming more like a small condo than some rooms in what could have passed for a bunker. I seated myself in a small chair, lost in a haze that revolved around Reed, his affections, and what I had just seen in the lower level. Reed returned with a glass of what I thought to be wine but was in fact some manner of fruit juice. Relieved for some strange reason that he hadn't offered me alcohol, I felt myself beginning to relax and lower the guards I hadn't even known were raised. We talked of menial things, of normal things, and I was grateful that he was making the effort to steal my attention away from the creatures—the hunters—and what had happened and most likely would happen. After a considerable amount of time I looked down to find my drink was gone; with an amiable smile Reed took my empty glass into the area that served as his kitchen. I rose as well, deciding it was time to leave, and made my way to the door. He followed me, and after I opened the door and stepped through I turned to face him.

"Thank you. For this, for distracting me," I fluttered one hand in the air, and he smiled again.

"Thank you for the same." He reached over and caught my hand, the gesture suddenly intimate. "Lex, I--" He began, then merely leaned in. I felt his mouth touch mine, first hesitating, then more surely, as though we'd done this before. When I didn't push him away, he moved in closer, tilting his head and bringing us into further contact. The kiss was nice—but at the same time there was a small voice in the back of my head screaming at me as though to distract me; I opened my eyes and prepared to pull away when I saw something moving, something rippling in the air in the furthermost corner of my vision. I stepped away from Reed, swivelling in the direction of what I'd seen, but there was nothing there.

"I thought I saw something," I said a trifle sheepishly, shrugging. My heart was racing from the aftermath of Reed's mouth on mine—it was nice to feel human contact again, to know somebody cared, but why did it also feel as though I was betraying a piece of myself?

Reed's gaze was focused in the direction mine had been when I'd pulled away; I watched, confused, as lines of tension appeared between his brows. "I'm sure it was nothing," I said, and he looked back at me. Though he nodded and smiled, I could tell he was still bothered by something.

"I'll take you back to your room," he said. He stepped past me, and I followed him. In the elevator I glanced at him, wanting to apologize for ruining the moment we'd had, but he was staring unseeing at the ground, the look in his eyes almost reminiscent to that of apprehension. When we arrived back at my room I made to step through, but he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. When I turned to face him, he ducked his head swiftly to kiss me gently on my cheek, and without another word he was striding quickly away. I watched after him a moment before entering my room; as I collapsed on my bed the one thing roiling through my mind was not the kiss, but the expression on Reed's face when I'd told him I'd thought I'd seen something in the hall.

**XIX**

_**Author's Notes: **Ah, Reed. He's so much fun to despise. Chocobo Goddess is a master at writing villains, isn't she? Anyways, Scar fans, hang in there. You know I wouldn't abandon him, for after all, Scar/Lex is my one true pairing. XD_


	5. Intentions Revealed

**XIX**

Three days passed without incident, and I became situated again in my daily routine; though it lacked excitement it was enough to keep my mind occupied. It was at night when I found myself recalling the hunter in the lab not far away, recalling the way his name had come so quickly to me; I was utterly and completely at a loss as to why I'd name such a thing. Perhaps I'd wanted to give a title to what had stalked me, hunted me; perhaps it was a way for me to deal with the unknown and the faceless. Whatever the reason, it confused me, and I found myself dwelling on this for long hours when sleep eluded me. Reed stopped by only once, and that was for a brief time. We spoke of mundane things, and when he left he took my hand in his and kissed it, his eyes holding promises that left me both exhilarated and disturbed. After he left I felt much like a school girl with a first crush, but still there was that nagging sensation, that distant voice of conscience telling me to be careful—careful of what, I had no way of knowing.

I awoke that night from a fitful sleep, and for a moment couldn't comprehend what noise it was I was hearing. I sat bolt upright when I realized what it was—alarms. They were claxons like you'd here on a military base, and their noise was deafening. Instantly afraid, I crawled out of the bed and grabbed the zip up jacket lying at the foot of the bed. It took me only a second to get it on over the tank top I wore for the purpose of sleeping, and once it was on I moved to the door and laid my hand on the knob. I hesitated before opening it, wondering what I'd find in the world beyond this small sanctuary …

The corridor was dark but for the lurid spasmodic flashing of the red lockdown lights located on the ceiling. Out here the claxons were even louder, and I had to resist the urge to cover my ears against the onslaught. The first thing I noticed was that the guard that was usually across the hall from my door was gone, but something dark on the floor glistened under the emergency light. I was five paces from it when I realized what it was—a pool of blood. I backed away from it quickly, heart pounding, eyes racing once again up and down the length of the corridor to try and find somebody, anybody. But it was deserted and I was alone, and I had no clue what the unholy hell was going on …

"_All security staff to zone 002 immediately! Repeat, all security staff to zone 002 immediately!"_

The voice on the loudspeaker was barely audible over the alarm, but I heard it and realized in that instant what was transpiring. Zone 002 was the lab where Reed had taken me, the place where the creature was kept subdued … I'd barely put the thought together before I turned around, and for a moment the air in front of me wavered as it does on a hot day. But then something appeared as though shaping itself out of nothing, something huge, something humanoid—

I screamed; it was close enough that I could see my reflection in the dark visor of its mask. And as I swiftly stumbled backwards it merely stood still, watching me with its head tilted to the side. In that instant I remembered seeing this creature in the exact same pose once before, and the rush of familiarity that washed through me was almost overwhelming. I stopped abruptly when I felt the wall at my back and I stood as though paralyzed, staring at the thing before me. It hadn't moved, merely watched me, and I found this exceedingly bizarre. I was its prey, wasn't I? I carried its mark … the same mark, I noted with a sense of detached calm, that was etched into its mask …

It took one step towards me then, and every muscle in my body tightened painfully. I didn't think I could outrun it, and overpowering it was a laughable idea. Screaming wasn't an option either, as I doubted there was anyone within range to hear me over the harsh blare of the claxons. When it took another step I sucked in a deep breath and tensed, and when it took another I pushed myself away from the wall in preparation to make an escape attempt that I knew would be futile.

I was saved from having to act by someone shouting my name; gunshots thundered from somewhere behind me, and I dropped to the floor even as the creature before me disappeared. I stared at where it had been, searching for a ripple, a tell tale wavering to reveal to me where it had gone. But there was nothing, and when I heard my name again I got shakily to my feet to find Reed fast approaching from the direction of the elevator with three armed guards at his back, their weapons held ready.

"It was one of them," I told him, shouting to be heard over the alarm and amazed I could form a coherent sentence. "One of the hunters."

"Lex! God, Lex! Are you all right?" Reed sounded frantic as he pushed forward to me. Once sure I was whole, he shouted over his shoulder to the guards. "Stay alert! It may still be here!" He turned back to me, clutching my arm. "Are you hurt at all? Did it touch you?" His eyes flickered to the scar on my face.

"I'm fine," I said, but when he suddenly enveloped me in his embrace I let him, grateful for the comfort. After a moment I pulled away and asked, "Did they come for the other one?"

He grimaced and looked around, then began to lead me away from the spot. "Yes," he spat. "They took it with them and killed half a dozen of my men in the process." He was so angry with himself, with the monsters. "It looks like that's all they wanted this time." He did not have to say anything else, I could feel his eyes on my mark again, the fear and worry behind them.

I told him again, feeling a rush of gratitude that he was so obviously concerned with my welfare, "I'm fine."

He looked as though he wanted to argue, but at that moment we caught sight of guards running down the hall towards us. I listened as the foremost among them detailed the situation out to Reed—the hunter in the lab was gone with all its equipment, seven men dead, and no further signs of the intruding creatures anywhere. Reed sighed when the man was done speaking and ordered one of them to run and shut off the alarm. He turned to me then, brushing gently at my mark before speaking.

"Listen, this is going to take a lot of cleanup," he began, "So I'm going to ask you to go back to your room and stay there until we get this taken care of, ok?" He motioned to the remaining guard. "I'll send an extra man with you. Wait there, lock your door, and when it cools down--well, we'll have to talk about assigning more security later, too. If they were going to do anything else tonight, they'd have done it when they had the chance." His brow furrowed. "You sure you're fine?"

I nodded, although my heart beat loud enough I was sure he could hear it. He gave me a brief, warm smile before ducking and kissing my forehead. Without another word he strode off in the direction of the lab, the other guards going with him. After a moment I moved hesitantly towards my room, trailed by the other two guards; I entered without speaking to them, although I was immensely grateful to see them take up posts on either side of my door. Once inside I flicked on the light and stared hard at my surroundings, looking for the smallest, most insignificant sign that I wasn't alone. I found nothing, though I searched until my eyes ached, and with a sigh I moved to my bed. I laid down and closed my eyes, feeling my blood still pulsing rapidly through my veins. It seemed Reed's story was true—the creatures had come not only for their comrade, but for me as well …

When sleep finally found me, it brought with it dreams that left me feeling afraid when I woke in the morning.

**XIX**

The next day was uneventful, passing in the manner all the others had. Whatever questions I had about the incident the night before went unanswered as the doctor simply ignored them and Reed was nowhere to be found. I couldn't sleep that night either; I lay wide awake waiting for the claxon to sound, for the garish red of the lockdown light to spill over me like it had the night previous. I left my room light on, knowing that it wouldn't help if one of those … hunters was here; I hadn't seen the one the night before until it was right in front of me and had shed its cocoon of invisibility, bleeding into sudden and terrifying existence in front of me …

Driven by apprehension, by an irrational, annoying sense of concern that I couldn't discern the origins from I got up and put on the thin zip up jacket over my tank top before leaving my room. The presence of guards had doubled since the escape of the wounded creature—_Scale_, my brain helpfully reminded me—and so as I made my way down the hall toward the elevator I found myself feeling slightly better to know that security had been tightened. On the ride up to the second floor, I stared at my reflection in the polished metal of the elevator and noted how pale and drawn my face looked, and how the scar, the mark of the hunters, stood out against my skin in vivid clarity.

The doors slid open, and I stepped out into the second floor. Unlike below, I encountered only one guard, and he was stationed not far from Reed's door. Hesitant, I paused before knocking, wondering if maybe I shouldn't be there, if maybe I should have stayed in my own room. But then I remember Reed's obvious concern for me the night before, the way he'd looked so shaken when I told him what had occurred, and so I rapped with my fist lightly on his door.

It opened after a moment, and he looked surprised to see me. "Sorry to bother you," I said quietly, but he shook his head and opened the door wider.

"Is everything ok?" He ran his fingers through his hair. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting company. Do you want something to drink?"

"No." I said as I stepped into the room, and then said, "Yes. And everything is fine, I just … I couldn't sleep."

He made a sympathetic noise, gesturing me to sit on his couch as he made his way into the kitchen. I watched him go, noticing that he was wearing only loose-fitting pants, most likely those he slept in, and that his upper body was bare. A fine time for my hormones to kick in, I though with grim amusement, but couldn't help the way I felt. My life as it was was just a mass of broken recollections and stories I couldn't verify. I was stuck in the farthest corner of the world in a facility without anyone I knew well enough to be absolutely, one hundred percent sure I could trust. I was effectively alone, isolated by loss of memory from the others around me, and I was tired of being scared and worried and confused. And so when Reed returned with a small glass of clear liquid and sat down close to me, I didn't pull away. I took the drink gratefully and downed it quickly, wincing as with a harsh, lingering burn the alcohol made its presence known.

"Thanks," I told him, setting my glass down on the table. He set his drink down too; suddenly it was very hard for me to meet his eyes. I said casually, "I couldn't sleep because I kept thinking about last night."

"Which part?" he asked lightly, though the air around us seemed heavier, dampening his words. His face was near enough to mine for me to feel his breath, though he waited. He always waited, except for that once, for me to choose whether to close the distance or pull away.

I smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. "I think coming face to face with the thing that wants to kill me is what's bothering me. Hard to shake that memory, you know?"

His smile was an echo of mine; between one heartbeat and the next I took the initiative, folding myself against him and letting my face rest against the cool skin of his chest. His arms went around me and I let myself feel safe, feel _normal_, feel the way I wanted to feel. A short silence followed, poignant with things undone and unsaid; when his fingers found my chin and tilted my face upwards I let them.

"Stay with me, Lex," he said simply, and he kissed me.

Like before, it was pleasant, a way for me to ignore all the dark shadows and terrible things in my mind and focus on the here and now. The kiss changed after a time, became a little more forceful, a little more demanding, and I let it. One of his hands moved up to cradle my neck while the other wandered, silently and quickly undoing the zipper to my jacket. When it was gone, when all that separated my flesh from his was the thin layer of my tank top, he stood suddenly and pulled me up with him, and with a whispered urge tugged me with him to the bedroom.

When I saw the bed—queen sized, thick dark coverlet and black sheets—I hesitated, suddenly unsure. Was this what the old me would have wanted? Did I really know Reed well enough to go through with this? As if sensing my reluctance he moved around behind me, nuzzling at my neck while his hands brushed the curve of my breasts. Whatever issues my brain had my libido didn't; suddenly it was very hard to breathe properly. His deft fingers closed over the hem of my shirt and I lifted my arms to aid him; as the shirt fell to the floor he turned me around, and I found myself entranced by the intensity of his eyes.

"I don't think …" I started to say, driven by that something lurking in the depths of the missing memories that belonged to the Lex that had been. He dropped his head to lick a warm trail from my collarbone to the swell of one breast, and my voice deserted me. He lifted his head again, smiling, and I remembered my protest, "I can't …"

He quirked a brow at me and, as if to silence me, lowered his mouth to my other breast. "Lex," he murmured against my skin, "Don't over think this. You don't know how much I have been looking forward to this," he punctuated the next few words with kisses wherever he could reach, "to you. To us."

His touch incited my pulse to quicken; when his mouth hovered over mine a moment later I leaned against him and closed the distance. This kiss was fierce, a ravening of mouths, and I liked the way it felt, liked the way _he_ felt. His fingers played along the waistline of my loose sweatpants, and I sucked in a startled breath—

_-his hand rounding back to my face despite my attempt to push him away. "Miss Woods, my patience has a limit." His tone grew darker as he spoke, his arms trapping me against the wall—_

An awful feeling accompanied that memory; I could hear the words but the voice that spoke them was still veiled in fog. I shook my head and made a noise, but Reed had already loosened the drawstring on my pants and they fell to pool about my feet. A gentle shove and I was on the bed with him looming over me, and when his hands touched me next everything fled from me except for the raw sensation of hands on my skin. Breath whispered along the lines of my ribs; fingers brushed my thighs before creeping upwards—

_-I kicked and squirmed, reaching with my hands for his face, for his eyes, wanting to inflict an unholy amount of my wrath upon him and inwardly panicking—_

I stiffened as I was assailed again by lost memory, as I remembered the body on top of mine, a punishing weight, as I fought to recall the visage behind the attacker. Reed's mouth was on my own suddenly, his tongue delving, his fingers striving hard to make me his own, to make me succumb. A breathless cry left me as pleasure I hadn't experienced in so long mounted within me, steadily growing—

_-Too late I saw his fist coming toward my face. I tried to dodge, but still it connected, jolted my teeth and rattled my brain. I staggered back into a stalagmite column, head spinning. He advanced, backhanding me with the same arm. This time, I stumbled to the side and fell to my knees. "Lex, Lex," he sneered, "You don't look so well."_

_I tried to lift the rifle, to get a shot off, but he kicked it out of my grasp and sent it skittering across the stone floor. I had managed to get myself up on one knee when he caught me by the collar and hefted me upright; his breath on my face, his fierce and savage smile were combined revolting, and so I spit at him, enjoying the way my mingled blood and spittle struck his face. Immediately his expression soured, and when he spoke next he lowered his head until his lips hovered over my own._

_"I gave you every chance, Lex, and now it's too late." His hand tightened, cutting off my air. "You would have been worth the aggravation."_

_I tried to choke something out, to verbally defy him though I was awash in both terror and fury. He was going to kill me without hesitation, and here I was helpless … I lashed out as best I could with one leg but it was a weak blow, and Reed's breath left him then in a soft chuckle—_

Reed.

I lay absolutely still, my mind roiling; he had pulled away in order to divest himself of his pants. I sat slowly as the last image replayed over and over in my head, heart thundering in the wake of all I'd just realized. When he noticed me sitting he paused, still partially clothed, and raised an eyebrow at me. I said nothing, but came to my feet, wrapping the length of a long black sheet around me.

"You …" I said, unable to convey just what I felt in that instant because my voice wavered so badly.

He must have known, must have realized that I remembered something, because he went very still. "Me?" To his credit, he managed to keep the tone normal, light, even, though it was strained just the tiniest bit. "Lex," he said carefully, watching me with his head cocked a little to the side, "What is it?" He shifted, not enough to put him between me and the door, but the movement was almost instinctual, as if to try to trap me here.

I stared at him, feeling my skin crawl with the knowledge that I had let him touch me, kiss me. It took me three tries to find the words, and even then when I spoke it was almost incoherent. "You hurt me. Wherever we were, on the island … you tried to kill me. I remember …"

The change was sudden. His warm, quizzical smile, the faint confusion, all disappeared and reformed into what I instantly recognized as the true face of Reed--the calculating opportunist, the vile businessman. His eyes seemed to gleam from the shadow across his face, like some comic book villain, as his lips twisted into the cruel grin I remembered and hated. "So close, Lex," he murmured, "It's too bad, we were so close. It could have been a beautiful thing." He laughed harshly. "You took long enough to figure it out. I was beginning to wonder if the damage was permanent. Not that I would have complained; it would have just been...inconvenient. And you would have been useless. Except maybe here."

He gestured to the bed, then lunged.

I stumbled backwards with a cry, trying to avoid his reach, but the sheet I clutched to me like some sort of armor interfered with the movement and he hit me full force. We went down in a tangle; I curved my fingers into claws, trying to rake his face as I had in the memory that had returned, but he caught my wrist. Furious, terrified, I swung out with my other fist and connected a glancing blow to his cheek. He turned his head back to me slowly as I tried to worm out from beneath him, and the slow, drawn out chuckle that left him then chilled my blood.

"Lex, Lex, Lex," he sighed. His hands clamped down hard on my wrists. He straddled my hips, effectively keeping me in place. I had forgotten how tough he could be, how strong he was. This time, when he bent to my neck, he bit hard. "You stupid girl." His voice was a gentle whisper, at odds with the pain and the fear icing through me. "This is my world you're in. I own everything, everyone here. There is nowhere to go, because even if you got away, they would bring you right back to me. Do you understand?"

I understood. I knew that there was no way out of this situation, that I was now completely and hopelessly screwed. But there was welling up within me a fount of such fury, such rage at being manipulated so easily, and I couldn't have stemmed it even had I wanted to. The look on his face—that arrogant, mocking smile—made me want to scream; I heaved all my weight to the side at once, unbalancing him while at the same time bringing my knee up hard to catch him in the groin. He wheezed something as I scrambled out from under him, almost falling but catching himself on the edge of the bed. Holding the sheet tightly fisted against me I half-ran, half-staggered from the bedroom, thinking only to gain the hall, to scream and hope that someone, _anyone_, would help me. I heard his voice ring out behind me, too close, and made a frantic, desperate lunge for the door. The knob turned just as he slammed into me, and together in a wild mix of limbs we fell out into the hall.

I sucked in a breath to scream at him, but his fist drove into my jaw and effectively silenced me. Dazed, my head lolled to the side; I could feel his fingers trying to pull the sheet away from my naked flesh, but even in this state I retained my death grip. I blinked as my vision came into focus, realizing that the misshapen lump of color I'd been staring at in the past few moments was actually a man—the guard, lying in a crumpled, bloodied heap on the floor. Reed's voice caught my attention, and still disoriented I shifted my eyes back to him.

His voice was choked; the blow I'd landed must have been a good one. "You bitch," he gasped, hauling on my wrist and dragging me up to him, "I am going to kill you when this is over. I am going to screw you first, and then--no, I'm not going to kill you. I am going to make you hurt, though." He slapped his free hand across my face, still shaking the one that gripped my arm and the sheet. "You hear me? I will make you suffer for all the trouble you and your monster have put me through. Starting now."

His backhand made the world reel around me, but I had enough left in me to struggle as he started to drag me back into the room. I dug in my heels and scrabbled with my freehand for his eyes, for his nose, for any part of him that would bleed. He grunted and drew back to strike me again; I stomped down hard, catching his shin, and with a garbled, pained curse he released me. I frantically gathered the sheet around me and prepared to bolt only to be jerked back hard by his hand fisting in my hair. The agony made me cry out and stumble; falling to my knees I braced myself for the blow I knew was coming—

-it never came, because Reed was suddenly airborne, flying several feet to hit the corridor wall—

-in front of me then, invisibility falling from it like water was one of _them_, and the noise it made was ear-splitting—

Panicking, I managed to rise on legs that shook violently, clutching the sheet as though it could protect me from both man and creature. It was the same one as the night before, I noted numbly—I remembered the mask. It wasn't paying any attention to me; its focus was completely on Reed.

Reed found his feet, and now he and the creature were facing off, Reed using the wall for support, inching back toward the keypad near the door. "I knew you ugly bastards would come back," he was saying, half-singsong, as if the towering monster before him was an angry bull. "Just stay there til the cavalry gets here--" He swung a fist sideways and hit a panel in the wall. It clattered away; beneath it was a button printed with red words on a white background. The fire alarm. He moved to hit it, even as the monster moved. An object hurtled through the air towards Reed, and before he could strike the fire alarm he reared back with a scream of agony. The object returned boomerang-like to the hunter, and it was then I saw it was a shuriken, its blades covered in blood …

Reed had staggered back, clutching his hand; through the mess of blood I realized two of his fingers were missing. With an infuriated, pain-filled hiss he looked from me to the hunter before lunging for the open door of his room. The creature moved to intercept with a swiftness that belied its bulk, reaching the entrance before Reed and catching him by the neck. It hoisted him effortlessly into the air; Reed clawed at it with his good hand, choking. The creature made a menacing noise, half-trill and half-growl before hurling Reed from him as though he weigh nothing more than a feather. Reed struck the wall once more and instantly crumpled; whether he was unconscious or dead I couldn't tell, for quite suddenly I was being advanced upon by the creature.

I did what common sense dictate I do—retreated. I was naked but for a bed sheet wrapped around me, trapped in a hallway with the prone form of a man and a large monster—both of which had at some point tried to kill me. Although I wasn't entirely certain, I was pretty sure that this was one of the worst situations I'd ever been in. By the time I'd decided to run the creature was right before me, and as I whirled around it reached out and caught me with one clawed hand by my upper arm. I stared up into the expressionless visage as it loomed over me, realizing that if ever someone had looked in the face of death, it would most likely look like this. I became absolutely still as it raised one massive finger—

-and brushed it slowly, gently over the mark on my cheek.

I forgot how to breathe. What was it doing? I inhaled, preparing to scream, but suddenly the creature made a noise, and it wasn't what I expected.

"Lex," it said in a voice, a human voice that was obviously a recording—_Ana's_ voice.

Silence then, both of us completely motionless. With a soft, low trill the creature tilted its head at me before more using more words that weren't its own.

"Lex," it said again and then continued with the exact same phrase I'd heard from Ana days ago, "You're not safe here."

**XIX**


	6. Familiar Captor

**XIX**

Inconceivable, to be faced with something not of this world and hear it speak with the voice of a friend—incongruous that its words weren't the threats I expected, but instead a warning that took me absolutely and completely aback. In the seconds that ticked by after Ana's voice had faded I found myself staring wide eyed at the monster and unable to form a single coherent thought. The fact that it could repeat Ana's statement back to me meant that it had been in close vicinity at that time, and I felt my blood run cold to realize that perhaps the entire duration of my stay at this facility I was being observed closely by the hunter. A small part of me was unsurprised by this, unmoved, as though it was something to be expected. _Expected …why? _ I found myself incredulously wondering this as the creature growled low in its throat. It lifted one hand and I cringed, but it merely pointed with one thick finger past me. The only thing there was the elevator, but my confusion was replaced immediately by dismay as I realized what it wanted.

I stumbled back two steps before it caught me again, wrapping one hand around my upper arm and snarling quietly in rebuke to my faltering attempt at flight. I tugged at its hold but realized I would have better luck freeing myself from stone. Again, the giant before me became unnervingly still, head tilted slightly to the side as it studied me from behind a mask frightening in its indifference. Unable to bear the weight of whatever gaze lurked behind the dark visor, my eyes moved upwards to the mark etched into the metal, a twin to what I bore on my cheek. From the depths of the forgotten a slip of memory struggled to resurface, and an instant later it came to me, a disconcerting flash of imagery and thought—

_-I'd nicknamed him Scar, because of his own mark and the one he had wanted to give me-- _

I caught my breath, my eyes still fixated on the mark. I'd not only named the other creature, but this one as well …

_Why?_

No answer came, and instead the hunter—_Scar_—made a noise of what seemed to be impatience before stepping past me. He didn't loosen his hold, and so I found myself being hauled unceremoniously down the empty corridor, half stumbling and half running to keep pace and all the while clutching the black sheet to me with white knuckled fingers. As the elevator loomed before us I suddenly snapped back to myself, knowing that wherever I was being taken, it would most likely be unpleasant. I dug my heels in as best I could then, pulling hard against the hunter's grip and for a moment it seemed as though his hold loosened, as though maybe I could break away-

A fierce snarl reverberated throughout the hallway, almost razor sharp in the displeasure it carried, and I fell back as the hunter—as Scar—wheeled about to face me. Panic in the face of his ire drove me to desperation, and I wrenched back with everything I had. Rather than release me he caught hold of my other arm and swung me around a swift ease that left me breathless; he slammed me hard into the wall and held me there, lowering his head until his masked visage was mere inches from my own. I clutched at the sheet with both hands as a deep chittering rumble left him; he was close enough that I could feel the vibrations of the sound through his touch. His fingers on the bare flesh of my arm were exerting punishing force, and I knew instinctively that there would be bruising. It was a long moment under his scrutiny I stood; quite abruptly he pulled back, turned and began to walk again, dragging me with him. I was confused; those hands could have killed me and done so easily, and yet his actions had seemed more like that of discipline than punishment. I followed obediently this time, not wanting to further incite his wrath.

The elevator doors slid open as we approached, and the hunter tugged me inside with him. The elevator only went one way, and that was down; when we reached the ground floor I would try again to free myself, to raise the alarm, to find someone, _anyone_, to help me-

But who would help me? Here, in this base owned and operated by Reed Weyland, which of his lackeys would disobey orders and defy the giant that was their boss to aid me? I knew the answer to that with chilling certainty; I was entirely on my own. On one side I had Reed, who had used me and exploited my memory loss to his benefit; on the other side was this hunter, who terrified and confused me but to this point had done me less harm than Reed …

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open; I opened my mouth to scream, to alert the guards but the sound died somewhere in my throat. There were two bodies in immediate vicinity of the elevator, strewn out in unnatural positions. Their blood painted a macabre image across the floor, and I knew immediately who had done this. Scar gave me no time to gawk, pulling me with him out of the elevator and striding quickly down the corridor. As we neared my quarters I saw that the same fate had befallen the guard posted outside my door. I wondered dazedly why the alarms remained silent and realized it was only a matter of time before they went off; if what I suspected was correct, these killings had been done carefully, quietly as to not alert security right away. Sooner or later someone on rotation would discover these bodies and perhaps that of Reed, if he was, as I hoped, dead. The hunter and his comrades had wanted time to steal in and complete their tasks without being noticed …

As Scar slowed to a halt outside my door, I realized numbly that _I_ was that task.

He let go of my arm, pushing me gently towards the door with a slight growl. I fumbled with the latch one-handed, refusing to release the sheet, and finally got it open. I entered the room quickly, turning once inside to face the hunter. He closed the door firmly and rather loudly behind him before turning to survey the interior. I had an inkling of why we had stopped here, and my suspicions proved correct when he pointed with two fingers to the closet and said in another's words—this time those of Dr. Taves—"Clothes."

I'd already decided that no matter what were to happen next, I would not be leaving this room without a wardrobe change. I made my way to the closet, conscious all the while of the other presence in the room, and removed a pair of dark sweatpants, a matching hooded sweater, undergarments, thick socks, and a light jacket. Turning with the pile of clothes in hand, I wondered how I was going to convey my need for privacy to Scar. I stared at him, hoping he would grant me that small privilege. He stared back, unmoving, and after a long moment of this he gave a distinctly impatient snarl. I swallowed hard and turned my back to him; what followed was the swiftest adorning of clothes in history.

Almost. I'd managed to get undergarments, pants, and socks on before I heard footsteps approaching; I almost turned but decided against it, decided I didn't want to know what had drawn Scar from his vigil at the door. I felt the light brush of his thick talons against the scars that ran rivulet-like down the entire expanse of my back, felt his touch hover at the nape of my neck. I bowed my head, half ashamed, half proud and inexplicably bewildered by what was happening.

_-when he reached out to run a gentle finger over the scars on my cheek I didn't stop him. He pointed then to his own similar scar and said, "Monster," before indicating again my marks and saying –in a man's voice this time- "Lex."-_

Sucking in a breath I lifted my head then, turning it to look at the hunter over my shoulder. Despite his ferocious, feral appearance, despite what I'd seen him do … what little recollections that had returned didn't display Scar as a killing machine out for my hide. If anything …

If anything, in them he seemed more like a comrade, a companion.

Reed had said the hunters killed his father, but I couldn't remember that. For all I knew Reed was lying, as he'd lied to me in such great magnitude about everything else. Scar, while proving to have a short and volatile temper, had yet to inflict any real harm upon me. Reed was a manipulator, a liar—but what if he wasn't lying? What if Scar had returned for me in order to be able to complete his hunt and the hunt of that of the other hunters? What if his seeming demeanour of acceptance was merely a façade to lure me with him, to bring me with the least amount of resistance? Something—intuition, perhaps—told me that such an idea was idiotic, but there were too many holes in my current self to trust my safe being solely to intuition.

The hunter trilled shortly, a reminder that we were pressed for time, and I shucked the sweatshirt on quickly, sliding the jacket on over top. Scar returned to the door, and with what felt like an appraising glance in my direction he wrenched it open and beckoned me through. I did as directed, and once we were out in the corridor again, faced with the recently dead body of my guard, I was struck with the enormity of the situation. Scar grabbed hold of my wrist and began to move again, and I followed reluctantly. We headed back in the direction of the elevator, and I wondered where we were going. Surely not back to the second floor, where Reed's broken form lay? My ponderings were answered when we veered from the main corridor into a secondary one; another guard was slumped against the wall here, his blood forming a lurid pool in the dim light. There was a door marked with "Sub 00" to the right, and it was to that door that Scar led me. He shoved it open and pushed me lightly through it, and I found myself at the top of a staircase made of steel grating. The fact that the staircase descended into gradual dark made me suddenly despair.

I felt a hand on my back, and I moved away from it quickly, away from Scar and the bewildered fear he created in me, descending the stairs as quickly as I could in the poor light. My footsteps echoed but were soon drowned out by the heavier, louder steps of the hunter. The staircase was a square spiral; at every small landing there was a small light bulb set into the concrete wall that gave off enough light, barely, to be able to make it safely to the next landing. As we descended, I was highly aware of the presence behind me, and more than once I wondered what would happen if I attempted to bolt. Nothing pleasant, my common sense told me, and so I resigned myself to compliance. Perhaps when we got wherever it was we were going, I could slip away or hide …

Thirteen landings later, Scar called a halt to our descent by again laying a hand on my shoulder. I frowned, looking over the metal railing; there were clearly several more stories to descend before we reached the bottom. Reed had said that this facility was one built for the purpose of extracting oil and natural gas, and here in the basement I saw that he wasn't lying. Large pipes and flanges with chemical labels wound their ways in and out of the walls, intertwining with the stair case. There were gauges and meters attached to the pipes too, and I leaned in close to examine one when Scar's trill jerked my attention back around.

The air before me rippled, and out of the distortion two hunters appeared. And in that moment, faced with impassionate masks and creatures much larger than I, I wondered somewhat frantically if I had left the proverbial frying pan for the fire. I recognized Scale instantly, his armor fitting exactly as I'd pictured and recalled it would. He inclined his head slightly when he looked in my direction, a soft hiss escaping him, and I noted how he stood, leaning against the metal railing as though it were an effort to stand. My eyes were jerked from him to the other member of the trio as he approached, towering over myself and even Scar. His mask was somehow more fierce, more stylized than that of Scar or Scale, and as he bent low the mask filled my vision.

He made a sound that was more roar than growl, and it made my ears ring. This hunter looked spectacularly hostile, and I was terrified to be face to face with him. Despite myself I shied away; the hunter reared back after a moment, tilting his head in a manner that made me think that perhaps he was bemused. I watched, mystified, as he raised one hand, fisted it, and pounded himself twice on the chest-

_-he instead gripped my shoulder while with the other hand lightly touched the mark on my cheek. Stepping back then, he thumped himself once on the chest and gave a bark of what I perceived to be approval- _

_-he looked about as fun to trifle with as a tank, and therefore that's what I would call him- _

I shook my head, dispelling the imagery. I had named all three of these hunters, and had apparently, at some point, journeyed with them all …

As Scar gave a commanding bark, as Scale and Tank both turned and began to descend the stairs before them, I made a fervent prayer that Reed had been lying, and that I wasn't just prey to these creatures. If he had been telling the truth then I was most certifiably just a dead woman walking.

**XIX**


End file.
